


Five Accepted and Agreed-Upon Rules for Considerate Bedmates

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 5 Things, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, SGA Saturday Prompt Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-17
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-09 00:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1139339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 5 Things thing. See title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Accepted and Agreed-Upon Rules for Considerate Bedmates

**Author's Note:**

> for sga_saturday's [week #136-138: plan](http://sga-saturday.livejournal.com/tag/week%20%23136-138%3A%20plan) challenge.
> 
> Beta by Mischief.

  
**Five Accepted and Agreed-Upon Rules for Considerate Bedmates**  
 **As Outlined by Dr. Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D.**

  
1\. _He Who Smelt It Definitely Did Not Deal It and Shouldn't Have to Put Up With It_  
  
"Oh my God, what is that horrible stench?" Rodney held his nose. "What on Atlantis did you eat?"  
  
John gave Rodney an unabashed grin and fluttered the bed sheet, making more of the appalling odor waft out into the room. "Sorry about that. MRE was, um, Tuna Casserole, I think. I'll try to avoid that one next time."  
  
"You just had better, mister, or you'll find yourself sleeping in the shower."  
  
John honked with laughter and gave him a noogie.    
  
Honestly.  
  


2\. _Personal Grooming Is Not Optional_  
  
"Ouch. Would you please remove your sandpaper face from my armpit?"  
  
"What?" Sheppard snuffled a laugh against Rodney's ribs. "I do not have a sandpaper face."  
  
"You do, too! My God, it's like 80-grit." Rodney tried to squirm away when John grabbed him around the waist and started rubbing his face against Rodney's chest. "Ow! Ow, quiddit!" He thwapped John on the head. "You lunatic!"  
  
John subsided and rested his chin on Rodney's sternum. "Well, at least I don't have razor toenails, unlike some people."  
  
"What? Razor—I do not!"  
  
"Sharper than Ronon's sabarta and pointier than your head. I could show you scars."  
  
Rodney glared. John blinked candidly.    
  
"Fine." Rodney rolled his eyes.  "I'll trim; you shave."  
  
"Deal."  
  
Later, Rodney had to admit he'd gotten the better end. Because John, clean-shaven, looked oddly defenseless, and his skin was soft and suede-like as he nibbled teasing kisses on Rodney's lips.  
  


3\. _Snoring is Not to Be Tolerated_

Let it not be said Rodney was unaware of his own propensity for snoring when sleeping on his back, which was why he always took great pains to sleep on his stomach.  
  
Sheppard, on the other hand, was one of the quietest sleepers Rodney had ever encountered; except, that was, when John was completely exhausted.  When he reached his current levels of pure, crippling bone-weariness, he would topple from where he stood, boots on, and pants half-undone, to land on Rodney's mattress in a gangling sprawl. After which, he would let loose almost immediately with a series of bass-rattling snorts and bellows that would put a Canadian moose to shame.  
  
The first time it happened, Rodney looked on in a state of almost awe.  Surely Sheppard was playacting?  Rodney had once driven a Yugo with a broken muffler that put out fewer decibels.  
  
But by now, Rodney knew it was, tragically, not some hideous joke, and that none of the following remedies worked: turning John on his side (he somehow got louder); waking him up (impossible); putting sticky tape on his nose (useless); muffling him with a pillow (dangerous). No, oddly enough, the real solution, found by trial and error, was giving John a handjob.  
  
Somehow, this confused sleeping John. He stopped snoring and started whimpering and making puzzled sounds until he came. And then he relaxed into deep, peaceful REM.  
  
Rodney never told him, of course. It might ruin the efficacy of the cure.  
  
  
4\. _~~First~~ ~~Last~~ First One to Come Sleeps in the Wet Spot_  
  
"Oh, God. Oh, God. Yeah. Right there, yeah," John said, his face buried in his arms. "Hey! Why are you stopping?" He glared over his shoulder.  
  
"Did you put down the towel?"  
  
"Fuck if I know. C'mon." John shoved backward.  
  
"You know the rule!"  
  
"Fuck the rule. You're always changing the rule depending on whether you're doing the fucking!"  
  
"Lie! Lying liar!" Rodney started fucking again, because. Well, because John's ass was very warm and tight, and he seemed to want it very much, and screw the towel. "I'm not sleeping in the wet spot," Rodney said—panted, really—fucking in short and fast, right there, right like John had requested.    
  
John groaned and dropped even lower, now bringing his hand into play, stroking himself off.  Rodney grinned. He was so going to win. Just a matter of time now and he'd feel John coming around him, the greatest feeling in the world—  
  
"Oh, hell," Rodney said. He'd made the cardinal mistake of thinking and watching at the same time.  He closed his eyes, too late, and heard John laughing at him as Rodney started to come.  
  
And then John squeezed him hard a moment later—oh, bliss. "Oh, God. So good," Rodney said, and heard John echo him, and watched John's arm moving fast.  Then Rodney had to close his eyes and just feel it.  
  
"I call tie," Rodney murmured against the salty skin of John's back a minute or so later.  
  
"Not even."  
  
They disengaged, and Rodney tied off the condom and carefully wrapped it in some tissue paper before dumping it in the trash.  He turned back and saw, as he had suspected, John had forgotten to spread the towel down on the sheet.  
  
"I caught most of it, anyway," John said, returning from the bathroom. "Don't be such a spoilsport."  He grinned and gave Rodney a kiss.  
  
"Hmmph."  
  
"Hey, it's your rule."  
  
  
5\. _Just because one partner has a military background and thinks everything needs to be all orderly doesn't mean he should tuck in the sheets so his bedmate feels utterly trapped and claustrophobic._  
  
Rodney woke up with his left arm numb and a sense he was caught in a Wraith cocoon. When he painfully extricated himself from the top sheet, it was to find Sheppard wrapped like a burrito on his other side, nothing showing but the crown of his unfathomable hair.  
  
Scowling, Rodney went on the offensive. A poke only earned him a sleepy grumble, but persistence paid off, and eventually Sheppard surfaced and frowned at him.  
  
"You did it again!  Again with the stealthy sheet wrapping like a mummy!  What is with you?" Rodney gestured wildly and almost tumbled backward off the narrow bed, making Sheppard smirk at him.    
  
"That," John said, his voice like gravel.  "That right there. See?  C'mere." And John coaxed him closer, tucking the sheet around him, to Rodney's protests, until they were once again cocooned.  "Now, lean back."  
  
Rodney leaned, but the sheet held him tight.  
  
"See?  No falling off. Learned that trick the first week." John yawned and rested his suede-soft cheek against Rodney's chest. "Now go back to sleep. Got an early meeting, remember?"  
  
Rodney settled down, his breath huffing against a dark brown cowlick, and positioned his arm around John's shoulder so it wouldn't go to sleep on him.  
  
Maybe, from an engineering standpoint, this configuration did make a small amount of sense, Rodney thought as he nuzzled closer.    
  
He fell asleep with his nose buried in John's hair.  
  
  
 _End._  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [Canadian Moose calls](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=--PyKhohVcY).


End file.
